


Cursed

by Call_Me_Apple



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Foreshadowing, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Insane Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Written in November but accidentally fits Post-Doomsday lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Call_Me_Apple/pseuds/Call_Me_Apple
Summary: Technoblade comes across a familiar ghost.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & ghostbur
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> I have little writing experience, so thoughts and criticism are appreciated!

Techno came upon him by accident. Wilbur, or Ghostbur, he supposed, sat on the edge of the crater of L'Manberg. Moonlight passed right through his ghostly form, casting a bluish hue over the remains of what was once a town, a country. There wasn't even a trace of a shadow to confirm the spirit's presence. Without much thought, the Blade walked up to the ghost and sat by his side silently, looking into the crater below him. 

"I've been thinking, Techno," Ghostbur spoke in his morose, calm manner. Technoblade looked up at the specter of his brother. This was far from the first time the two talked, but Techno still wasn't used to the new Wil's subdued manner. Even though the ghost’s personality seemed to grow more confident and vibrant with time, he still wasn't the same as the old Wilbur. Technoblade missed his brother. "What if we have all been going about it wrong. What if the problem isn't Schlatt, or the government…" Ghostbur paused, mindlessly rubbing at his stomach where his sweater was torn, "... or alive Wilbur." 

A chill went up Technoblade’s back. He folded into himself, subtly pulling his royal robe tighter around himself. "I'm not so sure about the government part, but go on." 

Ghostbur’s wistful gaze roamed over the ruins of L'Manberg leisurely, as if he was viewing a work of art. "So much has happened here, on this land. First, the War for Independance, then the election, then Schlatt's tyranny, followed by the revolution…" he tensed then, the prospect of offering the ghost of his dead brother emotional support had already started daunting Techo when Wilbur took hold of himself. "But even after it was destroyed, Tubbo didn't give up on it. L'Manburg blossomed again!" A genuine smile washed over Wilbur's face. Even though Wil and Tubbo never were close, the opposite seemed to be true for Ghostbur, who spent many days helping Tubbo build. When L'Manberg was blown up, Tubbo took it upon himself to continue Wilbur's unfinished symphony, an act that was greatly appreciated by the town's founder, even though he could only do so from the afterlife. Ghostbur’s joy did not last long and soon the amber of pride in his ghostly eyes died down and was replaced by sadness. "Yet here we are again."

L'Manberg had been reduced to a crater thrice. The first time was at the hands of Dream and his team, during the War for Independance. The second at the hands of Wilbur himself, following his descent into madness. Now, L’Manberg has once again been destroyed, but never has the crater reached such magnitude. In place of a previously flourishing city is a sinkhole. A sinkhole so great that blocks of bedrock could be seen in some parts of it. A few people have even claimed to have mined diamonds in the ruins right after the catastrophe. 

"History repeats itself," Ghostbur said quietly. His arms dropped to his side once again, his uplifted demeanor vanished. He turned to Technoblade with wide eyes. “Don’t you see the pattern here? Anyone who gets power over L’Manberg eventually falls, taking the citizens with them. It’s a perpetual cycle of violence and suffering,” a spark of insanity passed over his features, a reflection of his alive self’s madness. 

“See, that’s what I kept telling them. Power corrupts, presidents turn into tyrants. There will be no tyranny without a government,” the elder agreed. 

Ghostbur seemed dismayed at the other’s response. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said with disappointment. He looked Technoblade in the eyes expectantly, wishing for him to see, to understand. His ghostly eyes held the manic note of a man obsessed with some realisation. Some realisation he believed to be the undeniable truth that’s been hiding from everyone’s perception. "L'Manberg itself is cursed!"

"It's obvious when you think about it. Everything, everything in this world seems to revolve around L’Manburg. Every conflict, every fight, every death… What if we unknowingly built this country on cursed land? What if we cursed it with our conflict. What if Wilbur’s unfinished symphony was a curse all along?!" 

Technoblade watched Ghostbur monologue with mounting fascination. The spirit in front of him was almost indistinguishable from the person he was right before his death: a mad, desperate man, wanting everyone else to see what he saw, the corruption of his dream, the death of his masterpiece. The resemblance hurt. Technoblade was only just getting used to separating the two people in his mind, yet now his brother's ghostly form spewed the same hopeless words his insane living counterpart did. 

Technoblade should have been terrified, but Ghostbur's words brought on a weird comfort instead. After all, while everyone stood against Wilbur in his last moments, Technoblade had always been by his brother's side. The Blade and the Pyromaniac, two acolytes of chaos, the only people able to see the truth of the world, even though they did so through different lenses. 

Technoblade looked at the ghost of his brother, at his wide eyes, his manic grin, and the eldest’s mind flashed back to the ravine. To the two of them plotting the destruction of L'Manberg in secret while everyone else, either simply ignorant or deliberately blind, thought the two were on the side of the revolutionaries. In the moment of that memory, Technoblade felt just a little less alone. 

It seemed that with nearly all of his memories back, Ghostbur began to regain his old personality. Even if he was reverting to his worst self, maybe it wouldn't have to be so bad this time. Maybe with Technoblade closer by his side, Wilbur would know he wasn't alone, he wasn't hated, not by everyone. Maybe another soul could join his little snowy hideout. Maybe they could be alone together again. 

The Blade smiled, a rare sight. "You know, maybe you're right," he said and watched pure happiness spread across Ghostbur's face at being accepted, recognised, validated. It seemed like for a moment, the ghost's visage changed - a hood flashed around his neck and smudges of soot flashed on his cheek and forehead. But it must have just been Technoblade's mind playing tricks on him. 

Maybe this destruction was not another end, but a beginning. Philza has been talking about ancient texts and resurrection totems a lot lately. Perhaps Technoblade should pay his father a visit, see what he has found. 

The two sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just watching mobs walk around in the crater of L’Manburg. On the outside, they seemed calm and content, but on the inside, Technoblade’s mind was churning. He felt restless and could not sit silent and still for long.

"This was an enlightening conversation,” the Blade said as he rose from the ground. “I'll see you around, Wilbur," he turned to leave, his royal robe swaying behind him in the wind. The ghost thanked Technoblade for visiting and waved at the elder as he left. A plan was beginning to form in Technoblade’s mind. A plan so bizarre that it was surprising he was even considering it. Either way, there was no time to waste. 

There were arrangements to be made.


End file.
